


Post Traumatic Stress Disorder

by lavendersblues (lonely_lovebird)



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Dalton Family Ranch Crew, Gift Fic, Jack and Mac have issues, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-09-02 22:29:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16795996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lonely_lovebird/pseuds/lavendersblues
Summary: definition:a condition of persistent mental and emotional stress occurring as a result of injury or severe psychological shock, typically involving disturbance of sleep and constant vivid recall of the experience, with dulled responses to others and to the outside world.





	Post Traumatic Stress Disorder

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KatieComma](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatieComma/gifts).



> For Katie,
> 
> Merry Christmas

There’s a click, and a high pitched whine.

And then the world stops.

Fight or flight slams into Jack, his heart racing and his breath coming in short bursts. The hot and stale air inside the abandoned house is suffocating, and he doesn’t know how he manages to reach for his radio with a shaking hand to try and breathily warn the  _ Wunderkind. _

_ It’s fine, _ his brain argues as the realization that death is imminent sets in.  _ Mama won’t like it, but she’ll be okay.  _ But he’s only thirty-six, and he didn’t think that he’d die on his last tour before finally being able to bid the Army a fond farewell.

The seconds feel like hours as he watches the small neon numbers ticking down to the end - and he wonders what will happen to the kid when he’s gone. The kid who doesn’t believe in waiting for his overwatch, and who follows his gut even against orders. The slowest EOD tech he’s ever met, who bends paperclips in the passenger seat of the humvee into little shapes before handing them out to kids in the street. The light in their faces at the gift is mirrored in MacGyver’s when he gives them, and Jack doesn’t like to admit that it makes his cold heart crack just a little.

And then suddenly he’s there, the  _ Wunderkind _ who doesn’t take orders.

“Carl’s Junior?”

And damn it all if the kid doesn’t come through. Jack doesn’t know how he was lucky enough to walk off stepping on an IED in Kabul when he’s known so many guys who’ve never made it home. It takes him a good solid week to come down from the adrenaline, practically jumping at every sound.

Mac isn’t nearly as bothered, but Jack supposes that’s the result of the exposure he’s had to IEDs. He might be the most junior tech, but he’s dismantled the most IEDs out of the crew - he even set a company record. Johnson has an IED tech who’s been on four tours and who’s barely even dismantled half the number MacGyver has.

And somehow that knowledge seeps into Jack and helps him sleep at night, and they leave Kabul far behind them.

/

There’s a click, and a high pitched whine.

And then the world gets faster.

“Did that just click?” Jack stares horrified down at his foot in the back of the Mobile HQ truck and the roar of New York City is deafening but somehow he can still hear Mac over the cacophony of noise.

Jack is sweating, he can feel the perspiration on his forehead, but he can’t move, and the noise is crashing into him like it’s going to knock him over. Mac’s face is pale, but his hands are steady. Jack’s heart keeps hammering at his ribcage as if it wants to make an escape.

“Do  _ not. Move.”  _

Riley’s face is scared, and her big brown eyes are too sad to look at - Jack can’t stand to see those eyes that he can see in his memory in the face of a scared twelve-year old girl. He realizes later that he doesn’t even think about his mother when he thinks he’s going to die, he just thinks about Mac and Riley and wishes they were out of the blast radius instead.

But Mac has a habit of never listening when Jack tells him to stay away - and before Jack even realizes it’s happened Mac is cutting the wires on the plate and Jack’s collapsing next to the person who has saved him not once, but  _ twice _ from something he shouldn’t have walked away from.

It takes Jack three weeks to unwind from New York completely and he wonders how much of that was influenced by not sharing a bunk with Mac like he did in Kabul. The presence of the genius had calmed Jack during nights he couldn’t quite relax - knowing the person he owed his life to was there, the person who was watching his back, had always helped Jack embrace even the tiniest amount of sleep.

In California, he’s alone in a quiet apartment. With every click or creak in the building he stiffens, sometimes waking from dreams he can’t quite remember, but always filled with the phantom memory of the sound of clicks, a high pitched whine, and the feeling of something under him giving way with only the slightest amount of pressure.

But eventually, somehow, the knowledge that Mac is still there and still has his back bleeds into his unconscious mind, and Jack leaves New York behind him.  
  


/

There’s a click, and a high pitched whine.

And then the world turns upside down.

Jack doesn’t even register the noise as he wanders to a window but his blood pressure skyrockets and he can’t understand why his hands are getting clammy even as he reaches for the sill.

“Jack don’t open that window — Bozer get away from the door!” 

Mac points to the wall and Jack can’t see whatever Mac’s pointing to (he tries not to think about needing glasses yet - he’s only forty-two). And then Mac finds the bomb under the floorboards and it’s like the shock hasn’t settled in yet, Jack can only wonder how the Ghost managed to get the barrels under the house without anyone seeing.

Mac somehow knows that Jack is panicked and so Mac panics in his stead, distracting Jack with a boombox and microphone while Mac has to evaluate the actual threat. Mac had told Jack once that his first priority was always the thing that can kill you now before the thing that can kill you later - and the thing that could kill them now was Jack’s panic.

Somehow Mac keeps Jack from losing it, as they sit on a giant IED together, and Jack can’t help the tears that climb up his throat and brim in his eyes as Mac asks, “Could you have imagined back when we first met in Afghanistan that we would be standing on a massive IED in my own house? In  _ Los Angeles?” _

Jack is being overly honest as he replies, “Hey, I can’t believe you saved me from that massive IED I stumbled upon in Kabul. Remember that one?” Mac smiles and Jack knows he remembers. “Oh yeah, I feel like I’ve been playing with house money ever since. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.”

And somehow Mac saves the day with prisms and mirrors and a laser pointer and Jack can’t help the tears that fall this time as he pulls Mac into his arms as Mac climbs out of the floor, with the detonation device removed from the barrels of explosives.

Mac smiles and hugs him back and Jack can hear him murmuring something against Jack’s shoulder. He finds out later from Mac it was something between a chant and a prayer, “We’re okay Jack, we’re okay.”

Jack takes nearly three months to unwind from their experience, and he stays at Mac’s house every night. Mac finally asks him to move in, and Bozer actually agrees. Somehow between clinging to Mac in the dark, and settling his things in next to Mac’s, Jack lets California stay behind him.  
  


/

There’s a click, and a high pitched whine.

And then Jack goes very still.

/

Mac had always enjoyed the chaos that thrived in the Dalton household. He’d never had a big family, and spending time with Jack’s had filled a hole in his heart he hadn’t even known was there. Days spent on the ranch had given him a perspective on family that he’d never experienced - not even when his mother had been alive and his father had been around.

The house was full to the brim with noise, but it was a comfort rather than a dissonance. Linda’s voice raised above the din as she chatted with her mother and Kaitlyn, Jake and Kristy - Jack’s elusive sister - laughing in the corner, and Michelle trying to corral not only her four boys, but Kristy’s twins Colton and Maverick as the six ran around the living room chasing each other with their Christmas toys.

Isaias had a lightsaber that made satisfying whooshing noises as he swung it towards Manuel who blocked his swing with a heavy plastic shield decorated like Captain America’s. Colton had a Star Wars gun and he jumped into the fray with a shout, pressing a button on his gun that made a click, and a high pitched whine as if it were powering up.

It wasn’t a loud sound, and it was barely noticeable above the racket, but Mac heard it - and he saw the moment Jack’s brain registered the noise and turned to stone.

Jake seemed to have seen Jack’s reaction as well, because the blood drained from his face and he reached out with whiplike speed to grab Colton and drag him away from Jack and the other boys. Michelle caught sight of the action and she glanced at Jack and went equally pale - her hands grabbing her boy’s wrists sharply. Her voice was low and dangerous as she whispered to them in furious Spanish, dragging them back towards the kitchen.

Jack, in his place on the couch, hadn’t budged, his eyes wide and his pupils dark.

Mac’s heart dropped to the floor, and he glanced at the family who were quiet now, as they watched Jack with wary eyes.

Mac’s heart broke as he realized that they had seen Jack’s PTSD before, and they were afraid. Linda looked like she would burst into tears at any moment, and Mac felt like he could relate. Watching the man he loved falling into one of the darkest places in his own mind was never easy.

Glancing at Linda, Mac nodded and Linda immediately understood. She ushered the family towards the backdoor and no one questioned her quiet orders as they all shuffled outside. Linda was the last to leave, squeezing Mac’s shoulder gently as she smiled.

The door closed softly, leaving Mac alone with Jack, who was alone on the couch as he trembled.

Mac made his way to the couch, treading softly across the deep green accent rug on the tile floor. The first time he’d ever seen Jack have a flashback had been early in their partnership in Afghanistan - back when they’d barely been partners, let alone friends. He’d left Jack alone in their corner of the tent, and waited it out. But now Mac knew better.

Perching himself on the edge of the couch near Jack, Mac let out the breath he’d been holding. Jack was sweating, and his eyes were unfocused.

“It’s okay Jack,” Mac’s voice was low, slow, and soft. “I’m right here.”

Like a switch had been flipped, Jack’s muscles released their tension. He was still upright, alert, and unfocused, but his body stilled and his breathing began to even out. Mac wasn’t a doctor by any means, and he knew that Jack’s therapist was on vacation in the Bahamas for Christmas, but he figured that he knew enough that he could improvise until Jack was ready to face his family again.

Once the tension had drained from Jack, Mac knew it was alright for his hand to reach tentatively out and touch Jack’s. Jack’s hand instinctively clasped Mac’s, the grip a little too tight, but Mac didn’t mind. He waited as Jack’s eyes began to focus and slowly drifted towards their joined hands.

“Mac?” Jack’s voice was raw, and choked with emotion as he looked down at their hands, and Mac’s heart lurched painfully in his chest. When Jack looked back up at Mac’s face, there were tears in his eyes, and Mac wanted to cry.

Mac knew PTSD intimately from the perspective of someone who also had it, and his heart hurt watching Jack while also  _ knowing _ what Jack was feeling. This was a new trigger, and he made a mental note to remember it for possible future encounters with the noise. Mac hadn’t realized that Jack had…. That they had…. 

Of all the things they had encountered since Afghanistan, Mac had never realized he’d put Jack in harm's way enough that the love of his life would have flashbacks from something that sounded very much like an arming IED.

“Hey Jack,” Mac gave a watery smile through the tears that were forming in his own eyes. “We’re good, Jack. We’re safe.”

_ Grounding _ , that’s what it was called, using senses in real time to remind the person that they were in the present, not the past. Their joined hands were a start; Mac could see the light in Jack’s eyes growing and the shadows fading, but a tear leaked from the corner of Jack’s eye and Mac couldn’t help the strangled sob that ripped itself from his lungs.

“We’re at your mom’s house,” Mac breathed out, “in Texas.”

“Texas,” Jack repeated. “Right.” He took a shuddering breath and his hand slowly relaxed around Mac’s, but Mac didn’t allow him to let go, instead shifting their hold until their fingers were intertwined. Jack glanced around the room, taking in the wreckage from Christmas - wrapping paper, boxes, candy wrappers, and scattered stockings spread across the floor and under the tree.

Jack’s face took on a rueful expression, a small and bitter smile on his lips. “They’re all outside, aren’t they,” he mumbled, mostly to himself. Mac’s heart hurt but there was nothing he could say. Instead Mac squeezed their joined hands and looked towards the hallway behind Jack.

“Do you want to….” He trailed off, the question harder to ask out loud than he had expected. Jack nodded, face back to a blank and controlled expression. Mac’s heart wanted to rip itself out of his chest and hide with Jack’s, just enough to lend warmth and comfort to Jack in a way that Mac was struggling to do through just their hands. Mac stood, waiting for Jack to follow, their hands never parting.

Slowly, with muffled footsteps, Mac somehow managed to walk side-by-side with Jack down the hallway and into the bedroom. Without breaking their connection Mac closed the door behind them and tugged Jack to the large pine four poster bed that had been Jack’s during high school.

It had been their shared bed on every visit to Texas since the trip with the barn fire. Mac could still remember Jack’s teasing about how high school Jack would have been so proud of future Jack the first time they’d done anything more than hands over clothing in that bed.

Mac wasn’t sure what high school Jack would think of them now, as Mac slid onto the covers and gently tugged at Jack’s hand to bring Jack onto the bed where he curled up on the mattress and tucked his feet, the tears in his eyes slipping freely down his nose and into the pillow with the help of gravity.

“I feel like a damn fool,” Jack growled out as the tears began to flow for real.

_ “Don’t.” _

Mac pressed his free hand under Jack’s face, using his thumb to wipe at the stream of saltwater. Jack’s smile was pained and wobbled even as he sucked in a harsh breath and pressed his nose into Mac’s palm, breathing in the comfort being given.

“Mac, I —”

_ “Jack, _ don’t do this to yourself,” Mac’s voice was barely a whisper, the rasp of the air on his vocal chords a giveaway to the way his heart was pressing its way up his throat. “It’s not your fault, this isn’t something you can control, and your family  _ knows _ that.  _ I know that.” _

A wave of hot tears fell against Mac’s palms at his words and Jack reached out with his free hand to drape itself across Mac’s hips before pulling Mac even closer. Their breath was warm with hints of orange and chocolate from Mama Dalton’s traditional stocking stuffers mixing between them.

“You don’t have to go through this alone, Jack,” Mac’s voice was hoarse and choked with emotion. “You’ve got me.”

And just like that, the damn broke and Jack’s arms wrapped around Mac, pulling him tight to Jack, fingers clinging to the back of Mac’s shirt - their bodies pressed together, warm and solid and  _ real _ . Jack’s face was buried somewhere around Mac’s collarbone, the tears from his face damp on Mac’s shirt, but it didn’t bother Mac in the slightest.

Wrapping Jack in his arms, Mac buried his fingers in his lovers hair, as the strongest man he’d ever known broke down and cried, the sound of his sobs muffled against Mac’s chest as they continued to cling to each other like sailors finding safety in a storm.

That was how Mama found them, later in the afternoon when she finally braved the house after fixing lunch with Michelle in the back-house. The pair were bathed in the warm glow of the sun streaming through Jack’s bedroom window. Mac’s hands were still resting against the back of Jack’s buzzcut. Jack was holding Mac by his waist, his fingers loosely gripping the back of Mac’s shirt and his nose brushing Mac’s chest, the two of them fast asleep - their slow and heavy breaths the only sound in the house that was quiet as a mouse.

Linda smiled as she looked at her boys, her heart still sore, but hopeful. Mac had wrapped up her son as if he could protect him from the world, tucking Jack’s head under his chin, and leaving his arms around Jack’s shoulders like they would keep Jack from trying to hold up the weight of the world. And Jack had returned the favor, holding Mac close as if a stray breeze would snatch away his genius, taking him far away from Jack.

Linda sighed, leaning back into the bedroom to pull the door shut. She wanted to give them as much privacy as they could before Jack had to come back and face the family for dinner. She looked back at her son and future son-in-law with a sad smile. The world was too hard for boys with hearts as big as Angus MacGyver and Jack Wyatt Dalton Junior, but she knew that she could rest easy with the knowledge that they would always be there for each other.

There was a low creak from the door hinge, and a click.

And then there was peace.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [tumblr](https://lavendersblues.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
